


A Certain End

by fishydwarrows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 16th Century CE, 17th Century, 20th Century, A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Yuri!!! on Ice Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Historical References, I promise, Illnesses, Japan, Japanese Culture, Japanese-American Character, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Reincarnation, Terminal Illnesses, Time Travel AU, VictUuri, Victuri, Viktor dies, Vikturi, World War II, also yuuri dies, but they come back so its okay, is it gay, its depressing, kind of, reference to internment camp, sort of, sort offffffff, sorta - Freeform, time traveling gays, tuberculosis, viktuuri, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: Yuuri lives many lives at once and alone.He is kept in Heart Mountain during the Second World War.Yet he is also the son of a Daimyō in Owari.Then, he is training to be a shinshoku in Myojin.But, he also works as a banker in Manchester.He trades with the Portuguese in Tanegashima.And trains for the Worlds in Hasetsu.Many lives, the same name, the same face.The same heartache.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @dsmrml on twitter who beta'd this for me! 
> 
> Please enjoy my fic and leave a comment!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Your skin like dawn  
Mine like musk  
  
One paints the beginning  
of a certain end.  
  
The other, the end of a  
sure beginning.

  
\- _Passing Time_ by Maya Angelou

 

* * *

 

Time is not a linear thing: Yuuri knows this. He feels it surging about him, like the tide or a strong wind. Too tumultuous to be ignored. Time is just perception, but somehow _he_ is a constant. _He’s_ always there. _Viktor_ is always there. Somehow.

 

But Viktor never remembers.

  


He remembers the first life well.

 

His father, a trader who lived off the coast of Tanegashima, would go out by the river to fish during the day or sometimes would go into town for rice and fabric. His stepmother would mind his sisters and teach them weaving and housekeeping. Most days Yuuri would run errands for his father, or tend the family’s garden.

 

Then, the ships began to arrive.

 

Men, speaking strange languages from far off lands. They did not understand the writing they used nor even chopsticks. It was strange, but his father was a trader, and Yuuri was a trader’s son. Many men came to their home as guests; they ate with their hands but brought weapons and sugar.

 

(His father had joked that manners may sometimes be exchanged for gifts. Yuuri wasn’t so sure.)

 

But one foreigner figured out how to eat properly. He had hair like silver and eyes as sharp and blue as the cold waves of the sea. He smiled at everything: their garden, the sky, the trees, the river, Yuuri. And he understood enough to make small conversation.

 

Time went by and Yuuri spent more time with the foreigner.

 

(He learned his name was Viktor.)

 

According to Viktor, he had come from a town called Rostov in a Western Country called Russia and had traveled to Portugal to see the world.

 

They spent their days together; they translated for each other, worked together, and tended the garden together.

 

-

 

One night, they sat together by Yuuri’s family garden and conversed together, their hands almost touching.

 

“All your names have meaning.” Viktor said by lantern light, “I only wonder...what does _yours_ mean?”

 

Yuuri smiled. “You’ve seen our writing?”

 

Viktor nodded, “But, I have never understood it. Your name...It has two…” Viktor paused, searching for the word, “characters. And I know they mean things, but I don't understand what.”

 

Yuuri leaned down, grabbed a stick, and squatted, beckoning Viktor to join him near the dirt. In the ground, Yuuri traced the kanji characters in the ground: 勇利. He pointed to the first: “This means 'be in high spirits’ or ‘courage.’” He pointed to the second: “And _this_ means 'advantage’ or 'profit.’” Viktor hummed and Yuuri saw him scrutinize the characters hard.

 

“What a beautiful name you have.” Viktor said. Yuuri watched his rise to his feet and extend a hand. Yuuri took his hand and shrugged: “Ah, but it is common enough. You are sure to find others named Yuuri.”

 

Viktor smiled softly, “But I will never find another _you._ ”

 

-

 

They were closer after that, and in the secret of the night they drew close to another, finding comfort in touch and embrace. But, the trade ship soon became full of goods, and it was clear to Yuuri that their time would soon be up.

 

“Promise you’ll return?” Yuuri said. Viktor cupped Yuuri’s cheek; the spray of the ocean fizzed by the sand.

 

“I will try,” Viktor said, “And if I… if anything happens - anything happens… Remember me.” Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand.

 

An answer: of course, _of course, I promise._

 

-

 

He never returned.

 

-

 

Years later, Yuuri learned Viktor’s ship sank off the coast of Kongo.

 

But Yuuri did not forget.

 

ii.

 

His second life, Yuuri remembers, was easier than the first.

 

He had lived his life the son of a Daimyō in Owari. No longer a poor trader’s son living on a small Southern Island, but someone notable, important. They were _fudai;_ his family had been vassals to the Tokugawa family in the past: not high-ranking, but not low either.

 

At the time, he remembers that less and less foreigners were sailing over. His own father had been ordered to forswear Christianity, and soon, the Spanish and other missionaries were pushed from the country.

 

-

 

In all of his second life, Yuuri saw him but once.

 

He was only sixteen.

 

There was a missionary leaving with his brothers. He had been staying in the East of town, and Yuuri had heard tell of his humor and surprising manners, but had never seen him.

 

The men had been walking in the direction of the coast, and he saw him. Silver hair that glinted in the sun.

 

-

 

Yuuri remembered.

  


iii.

 

His third life was - for the first time - not in Japan, but Britain. (Manchester to be exact.)

 

His family had immigrated to the country the year before, and Yuuri worked at a bank. He had been staking bank notes when a frail looking man ran through the door.

 

He had silver hair.

 

“Pardon me,” the man said, “I need to make a withdrawal.”

 

Yuuri blinked.

 

“Of course,” he said, and brushed invisible dust off his trousers.

 

“May I have your name, sir?”

 

“Mr-” the man began a fit of coughs which led to him producing a very embroidered handkerchief. Yuuri waited patiently, and when the coughs subsided, the man smiled.

 

(So familiar.)

 

“Viktor Nikiforov. And I’m terribly sorry about that; my wife says I should have a change of air. We’re thinking of moving to a summer home in Florence. Well, actually it was my Clara’s idea - she’s a great fan of Byron and we heard that he lived there before, well, you know… So it’s really rather-” He burst into another coughing fit.

 

Yuuri cleared his throat after he was finished. “Your withdrawal, sir? How much will it be?”

 

Mr Nikiforov tilted his head, then smacked a gloved hand against his palm.

 

“Ah, you must forgive me, Mr…?”

 

“Katsuki, sir.”

 

“Please forgive me, Mr Katsuki. I’m all-overish, and I’ve had this cough for a week about, and it can’t seem to leave me. As for the withdrawal: I am in need of £20, thank you.” When the money was taken care of, Mr Nikiforov patted his valise happily and smiled at Yuuri.

 

“You know, to split the cost two ways is far easier than one.” Yuuri knocked over a pile of shillings he had begun to stack.

 

“E-excuse me?” Yuuri said incredulously. He adjusted his glasses and blinked. Mr Nikiforov came back to the counter.

 

“You seem a fine gentleman to me, and if I like you, Clara is bound to love you! At least, come to tea with me.” Yuuri stared as the silver haired man rummaged through his valise and procured a small calling card.

 

“We’re just a ways away from central so you won’t have trouble finding us, I don’t think. Please, come by and ring our door around noon tomorrow. I’ll tell Arabella to let you in.”

 

Yuuri stared speechless at the calling card, “Arabella?”

 

“Our maid. It was lovely meeting you!”

 

With that the man left.

 

-

 

In the end, Yuuri did go to Florence with Mr and Mrs Nikiforov.

 

The air did wonders for his mood, however, the cough did not go away. The three of them, Clarissa, Viktor, and Yuuri, spent their days together; Clara reading poetry or embroidering whilst Yuuri and Viktor explored the streets of Italy. Viktor claimed that ‘he had to find the grandest place in all of Florence,’ and joyfully encouraged Yuuri to follow him.

 

All three traveled to great sites: Roman statues, markets rich with exotic spices and young men with tales of adventure, and Yuuri even slipped some money into a man’s pocket so Viktor and Clara could go out on Gondola.

 

Yuuri was happy, for Viktor was a nice man.

 

-

 

He didn’t remember.

 

Not until the cough got worse.

 

-

 

They had been in the parlor, and it was a lovely day. Viktor had been reading, then coughing. Clara and Yuuri had paid it no mind, for it had done no harm except inconvenience the man. But the coughing didn’t let up.

 

Whilst Clara went to get a cup of water, Yuuri sat down by him, a hand, gently rested on Viktor’s back. Clara arrived when the coughing finally subsided and Viktor brought away his handkerchief.

 

It was stained red.

 

Yuuri and Clara locked eyes, they both knew what it was.

 

_Consumption._

 

-

 

Yuuri remembered.

 

-

 

Viktor lived another week. At his bedside, Yuuri and Clara knelt, each holding his hand.

  


iv.

 

In his fourth life, he had run a grocery store, but he didn’t meet Viktor until his family was sent away.

 

They had lived in San Francisco and had a nice life, but like the rest, they stepped on a train and were sent away. Heart Mountain, to be precise.

 

A little slice of nowhere in Wyoming.

 

They called it a _Relocation Center_. He remembers the dust, and the small children playing with tumble weeds and sticks. He remembered the soldier there, stationed near the ‘hospital.’

 

His hair was bright, and his eyes were sharp. He was kinder than the others. He slipped Yuuri some aspirin for his grandmother when the nurse wasn’t looking.

 

They spoke together when he was on break.

 

_-_

 

_Viktor._

 

Yuuri _knew_ he was familiar.

 

-

 

Though some of the men gossiped that Viktor was an evening botanist or built on an uncertain foundation, there was never enough proof. In private, they danced with one another and told each other stories.

 

They both were sons of immigrants: Yuuri’s parents were grocers, Viktor’s mother was a seamstress.

 

-

 

One evening, they laid together.

 

“Say,” Viktor said into the crook of Yuuri’s ear, “Whatcha’ thinkin’ ‘bout?” Yuuri turned and nuzzled into Viktor’s chest.

 

“Stuff.” Yuuri felt Viktor smile into his hair: “What ‘stuff?’”

 

“Like what I’m gonna do when I’m out’a here.” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s chin, “That kinda stuff.” Viktor hummed.

 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that too.” Yuuri looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Such as?”

 

Viktor smiled, “Well, as I see it. As of now, we’ve got two options: live together as close ‘friends,’” He air quoted, “ _Or_ we just change the law.”

 

Yuuri snuggled close, “Awfully ambitious, if you ask me. How are we even gonna do that, Mr Law Changer?”

 

Viktor kissed his nose.

 

“We start a petition once the War’s over.”

 

Yuuri yawned and pecked him on the cheek.

 

“If you say so.”

 

-

 

There was a dust storm, then the questionnaire came. It asked for loyalty and allegiance, and Yuuri saw his family shut away.

 

-

“If I went,” Yuuri said in the dead of night, “would _you_ remember me?”

 

“Yes,” Viktor had whispered. “ _Yes._ ”

 

-

 

He had no choice but to mark ‘Yes’ and ‘Yes’.

 

Then, Yuuri was drafted and dead.

 

v.

 

In his fifth life, Yuuri lived with his Uncle in Myojin.

 

His Uncle thought it best for him to continue in the family tradition: to become a _shinshoku._ So Yuuri studied hard and was accepted into Kokugakuin University in Tokyo.

 

-

 

He had been walking to the Metro at Shibuya Station: a tote-bag casually held over his shoulder, and a cassette player in his pocket playing _Seasons of the Sun._

 

He hadn’t been paying attention and bumped into a man walking the opposite direction, jostling the large package in his hands.

 

“Oh- I’m sorry!” He exclaimed as the man stumbled and caught himself. The man’s sharp blue eyes met his own.

 

“No… It’s fine.”

 

Yuuri nodded and turned to go, only to hear the beginning of the stranger’s sentence before he was drawn away by the crowd.

 

-

 

“Do I know you?”

  


vi.

 

Yuuri stretches in bed.

 

He feels as if he had experienced a strange dream, or a long memory. Beside him, Viktor sleeps, and Makkachin lays across their feet. St. Petersburg is cold, even in Spring, and Yuuri rubs his feet together under the blankets to keep them warm.

 

Viktor rolls over, eyes blinking slowly before he sets his gaze on Yuuri.

 

There is a feeling: Yuuri gasps quietly, and Viktor’s eyes widen.

 

-

 

He remembers.

 

-

 

Viktor surges forward, jostling Makkachin off his feet, and kisses Yuuri deeply. Then they are crying, and kissing, and crying again. Yuuri laughs, tearful hiccups and giggles interspersed together.

 

-

  
_They remember._

**Author's Note:**

> Slang:
> 
> all-overish: Neither sick nor well
> 
> an evening botanist or built on an uncertain foundation: slang for homosexual  
> -
> 
> Timeline:
> 
> 1543-1549 Tanegashima - Trader
> 
> 1621- 1632 Owari - Daimyō
> 
> 1885 - 1892 Machester - Bank Teller
> 
> 1944 - 1945 Heart Mountain, Wyoming - Grocer
> 
> 1972 - 1975 Myojin - Shinshoku
> 
> 2016 - 2017 St. Petersburg - Figure Skater
> 
> -
> 
> Feel free to hop into my inbox if you want to talk about fic!
> 
> my tumblr: http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com/
> 
> my twitter: @wow__then
> 
> -
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!


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